


I'm Sorry If I Ever Made You Cry

by one_more_offbeat_anthem



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Needs to Remove Head From Ass, Dean Winchester Needs to Use Actual Words, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Nightmares, Sam Winchester is So Done, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26307289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_more_offbeat_anthem/pseuds/one_more_offbeat_anthem
Summary: Several years after kicking newly-human Cas out of the bunker, times have changed—Cas has his grace back, they’re fighting new enemies and allied themselves with some old ones, Cas is back in the bunker, and Dean should be happy.But instead he keeps blaming himself for all the times Cas has been hurt, and things come to a boiling point when Cas tries to help him with his nightmares.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 105





	I'm Sorry If I Ever Made You Cry

_**“Need's got headlights and I'm in the middle of the road, and it's hard to have a swagger when you're carrying the load. But two shoulders they bode well, and two arrows are well bowed—but I'm sorry if I ever made you cry.” —Patrick Stump, When I Made You Cry from 2011’s Soul Punk** _

_********* _

The best thing about getting home from a hunt was, well, everything.

Don’t get it twisted—Dean loved the open road, loved driving Baby, forcing Sam and Cas to listen to his tapes, and beheading bad guys.

But he also loved his own shower and his good ol’ memory foam mattress.

And it was easier to hide his nightmares when he was in his own room, as opposed to with Sam in the next bed over and occasionally Cas, lurking.

Dean tried not to call it “lurking.” Cas was watching over them. But Dean knew that he didn’t deserve to be watched over—not after all he had done, especially to the angel. These were the images that flickered across his lids as he tried to sleep—every time he had left Cas behind, or snapped at him unnecessarily, or…

He remembered vividly Cas’s face when he was newly human and Dean had told him he had to leave. And then Cas’s face when he had found him again.

And yet, every time he left, or died, or whatever, Cas came back to him, without fail, even though Dean didn’t deserve it.

But one day, he knew, he would drive the angel away for good, and it would snap his heart cleanly in two, and then what? There was only so much a guy could take.

As for now, though, Dean was alone, and he could stretch out on the bed and deal with his problems himself, maybe even get a few hours of shut-eye.

*****

Dean did not get a few hours of shut-eye.

As soon as he felt like it was a remotely passable hour to be awake, he stumbled into the kitchen to figure out how to inject coffee directly into his veins.

He had just turned on the coffee maker when there was a cough behind him, and he whirled around.

“Shit, Cas, you gotta tell a guy you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.” Dean slumped down into a chair across the table from Cas, “How was your not-sleeping?”

“I feel alright.” Cas tilted his head, “You didn’t sleep well.”

Dean ran a hand over his face, “I never do. I’ve gotten used to it.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I—“ Dean sighed, “Cas, could you be maybe two percent less blunt? It would help me have less homicidal rage.”

“You couldn’t kill me if you tried.”

“You wanna bet?” The coffee maker made a noise, and Dean went over, rummaged through the cabinets for the biggest mug they had, and then—

“Dean, that’s disgusting.”

“Well, you’re not gonna drink it, so…” Dean wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, having just drank directly from the pot, “It’s pretty hot though. I think I—dammit.”

“Burned your tongue?”

“Something like that.”

“Here, I’ve got it.” Cas stood up, crossing over to Dean and gently pressing a hand to his forehead.

Dean sighed, “If only you could do that to my bad dreams.”

“I mean, there are things that I could—“

“Nope, nope, forget I said anything,” he pushed past Cas, leaving the coffee pot on the counter, “I’ve got it. Tell Sam not to drink out of that! Or don’t tell him. Could be funny. I’m going to take a shower, get the blood pumping.”

He didn’t need the main reason for his nightmares to try and cure them.

*****

To call Cas the main reason for his nightmares was harsh, because really Dean was the own reason for his nightmares, him and his stupid pigheadedness. If he told himself the truth, he pushed Cas away because he knew how close they were, and how much it would wreck him if one day, Cas really did kick the bucket.

They were supposed to be at the bunker for a few weeks, which was a rarity, and so he thought that maybe he could eke out some good hours.

However, things didn’t quite go as planned.

(They never did. Maybe Dean should stop planning things.)

Instead, they found themselves in Wyoming (who the fuck bothers to live in Wyoming?), tracking a nest of vampires.

After a long day of driving, interviewing, driving more, and having shit luck find a bar, they made it to the universe’s smallest and crappiest motel (and that was saying something, considering that Dean had practically grown up in crappy motels). The cost of renting a room was low enough that Dean coerced Sam into letting them get separate rooms. Cas, in typical Cas fashion, had fucked off to Chuck-knows-where to not-sleep, which meant that, finally, Dean was going to get _peace_.

Not that he minded having his brother around, or Cas, for that matter. He liked that Cas rode with them in the Impala even when he didn’t have to, seeing as he could fly.

But it was also harder to think.

Dean had let them both down, dozens of times, but he knew that Sam would always come back. They were brothers, and they had tried to be apart before, but it was sort of like they were each other’s limbs. They worked better together. Cas, on the other hand, had no familial obligation to stay.

How comforting.

A shower, some beer, a little television, and then bed, Dean decided.

*****

_Cas, wading into the river._

_Cas, walking away._

_Cas, laying on the ground, dead._

_Cas, going back to Heaven._

_Dean was sitting on the dock. He had been here before, and Cas had come._

_This time, though, Cas didn’t come. Instead, a twisted facsimile, someone who also wore Jimmy Novak’s face but wasn’t Cas, couldn’t be Cas, wouldn’t taunt him like this…._

_Would he?_

_Dean was screaming._

_******_

“Dean!”

Dean sat bolt upright, slamming his forehead directly into Cas’s.

“Shit,” he said, rubbing it, “When’d you get here, Cas?”

Cas, who seemed unperturbed by the head smash (of course he did, goddamn angel), replied, “Only a few minutes ago….I sensed that you were distressed.”

Dean stopped rubbing his head, stared at Cas, narrowing his eyes, “You were looking at my dreams.”

“Not purposefully…I didn’t realize that—“

“That shit’s private, Cas.”

“Are all your nightmares like that?”

Dean scowled, “It’s none of your business.”

Cas looked down at his hands, pressing his lips together, “I’m getting the sense you want me to, ah, ‘take a hike.’”

“Please do.” Dean flopped back down, rolling over.

“Fine.” There was a rustling, and then Cas was gone, and Dean felt emptier than before.

*****

“What’d you do?” Sam said to Dean, once they had successfully killed the nest. Cas had healed them both and then left in a flash, choosing to fly back to the bunker instead of riding with them.

“Why is it is always _me_ who’s done something?” Dean grumbled, starting the Impala, “Why not Cas?”

“Because…Dean, has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit stubborn?”

“Once or twice,” Dean replied drily.

“Maybe….whatever’s going on with you and Cas, you should be transparent.”

“Like hell.” What would Dean say, anyways? _Hey, best friend who I’m constantly pushing away or getting mad at? Turns out I’m in love with you, and if you ever left again it would end me, but I keep doing stupid shit and one day you’ll really leave._

“You’re a little obvious, Dean.” Sam was smirking slightly.

“Shut up.” Dean rammed Zeppelin’s _Physical Graffiti_ into the tape deck and proceeded to ignore Sam the whole drive home.

*****

Dean managed to accomplish staying in his room for a full fifty-four hours before there was a knock on it.

“Buzz off, Sam,” he said, “Can’t you see that I’m moping?”

“You’re always moping,” a gravelly voice said from the other side, and it made Dean double-take. Before he could tell Cas (because of course that’s who it was) to come in (because telling him to leave would have been fruitless), the angel was standing in the doorway.

“Do you have to be such a lurker?” Dean grumbled, pausing the episode of _Dr. Sexy_ he was watching on his laptop.

“If you’re just going to insult me—“

“No,” Dean put his laptop on his bedside table, “That’s not what I…. _ugh_.” He flopped backwards onto his bed, running his hands through his hair.

“What do you mean, Dean?”

“You already known, with your friggin’ angel vision or whatever.”

Cas sat down on the edge of the bed, “Yes. But I want you to stop being….what does Sam call it…”

“Emotionally constipated?” Dean rolled his eyes, “Of course he’d describe me as that.”

There was a pause, and then Cas asked, “Am I the reason you’re not sleeping well?”

“Yes…no? _Gah_. It’s…..shit.” Dean took a deep breath, “It’s me, because I’m afraid that one day you’ll—“ He didn’t get any further than that before an unexpected wave of tears choked him. He sat up, coughing slightly, before continuing, “Fuck. It’s….one day, you’re not gonna come back, are you? You’re gonna leave forever, and then what’s the point?”

“Dean.”

“I mean, I know I’m a big-ass screw-up, and that you never should have come back as much as you did, especially after I kicked you out—“

 _“Dean_. You’re my best friend.”

He turned to Cas, “Some best friend I am, pushing you away all the time.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider,” Cas frowned, “That you may push me away, but I _always come back_? You’re a jerk sometimes, and you know it. But at the end of the day, I’m—“

“Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters. I know.” Dean looked at his hands.

“I know you’re not an idiot,” Cas said, his voice turning to anger, “So I don’t know why you insist on acting like one. I care for Sam, I really do. He’s special. But he’s not _you_. Recall who, exactly, I defied heaven for, was willing to have my wings proverbially ripped off for. _Pull your head out of your ass_.”

It was the swearing that sent Dean over the edge into hysterics. The tears that had choked him bubbled out now, and he was _so tired_.

As if it was a reflex, Cas reached for him, gently pulling him into a hug, “It’s _okay_.”

“No,” Dean choked, “It’s really not. I am a fucking idiot…..Cas, I….Jesus Christ.” Another sob, and then, “I love you, man. For real, with all the stupid sappy shit.”

The corners of Cas’s mouth turned up into a smile, “I love you, too. Now, _go to sleep_.”

Dean barely had time to register that Cas was pressing his fingers to his temple before he was out cold. He wasn’t awake to see Cas gently put a blanket over him or press a kiss to his forehead, but he slept well for the first time in months.


End file.
